Chapter 3 - The Lockout
It was 7:45 PM when my phone buzzed with a notification from the Vanguard security system.
I was sitting on the velvet sofa of my penthouse suite, a glass of iced water resting against my cheek.
The screen of my tablet illuminated, showing the live feed from the front porch camera of the house.
Arthur’s sleek BMW pulled into the driveway.
Brooke stepped out of the passenger side, holding several high-end shopping bags.
They looked triumphant. Smug. Completely oblivious.
Arthur walked up the steps and pressed his thumb against the biometric lock.
The lock flashed red.
Access Denied.
He frowned, wiping his thumb on his expensive slacks, and tried again.
Access Denied.
"What's wrong?" Brooke asked, shifting her shopping bags impatiently.
"Stupid machine is glitching," Arthur muttered.
He pulled out his physical backup key and jammed it into the manual override slot.
It wouldn't turn.
The cylinder had been completely replaced.
Through the camera's microphone, I could hear his breathing quicken.
He banged his fist against the heavy oak door.
"Clara! Open the door! Stop playing games!"
Silence.
He walked over to the front window and peered inside.
The lights were off, save for the small pendant lamp hanging over the breakfast table.
Even through the low-resolution camera, I saw the exact moment his eyes landed on the kitchen table.
He saw the stained coffee mug.
And beside it, glinting in the dim light, he saw my diamond wedding ring.
Arthur stepped back, his face draining of color.
"She left," he whispered to Brooke.
Brooke rolled her eyes. "Good riddance. Let her throw a tantrum. We'll change the locks back tomorrow."
Before Arthur could reply, a sleek black sedan pulled up to the curb.
Two men in dark suits stepped out.
One was a process server. The other was an off-duty police officer Victoria had hired for extra security.
"Arthur Sterling?" the process server asked, walking up the driveway.
Arthur puffed out his chest, trying to maintain his authority.
"Who's asking? Get off my property."
"Actually, sir, it's not your property," the server said flatly.
He handed Arthur a thick manila envelope.
"You are hereby served with an emergency restraining order on behalf of Clara Sterling. You are required to vacate these premises immediately."
Arthur stared at the envelope as if it were a bomb.
"Vacate? I live here! My wife is having a hysterical episode!"
The police officer stepped forward, resting his hand casually on his duty belt.
"Sir, the property belongs to Vanguard Holdings. Your name is not on the deed. The restraining order is active. If you try to enter the house, you will be arrested for trespassing and violation of a court order."
"This is insane!" Brooke shrieked, dropping a shopping bag. "You can't do this!"
"You have five minutes to collect whatever is in your vehicle and leave," the officer said, completely unfazed by her outburst.
Arthur’s phone began to ring.
It was an automated message from American Express.
I watched on the camera as he put the phone to his ear.
His knees practically buckled.
"Declined? What do you mean the accounts are frozen?" he yelled into the phone.
He looked frantically at the house, then at the police officer, and finally at the camera mounted above the door.
He knew I was watching.
His arrogant mask completely shattered.
He lunged toward the camera, pointing a shaking finger.
"Clara! You can't do this to me! You have nothing without me!"
I smiled, tapped the screen, and disabled the audio feed.
I didn't need to hear his empty threats anymore.
I took a sip of my water, leaning back into the luxurious cushions.
He was right about one thing.
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I had nothing without him.
I had absolutely nothing holding me back.
